I remember my mom working away at her pedal powered singer sewing machine, stitching together three sides of a small canvas sack. Before closing it she would fill it with dry chick peas. Behold the beanbag, the simplest toy since the “ball” and the “rope”. We kids would rush off to throw these things around, toss ‘em to each other and basically let gravity etch her parabolic curves. Beanbag nirvana.
Fast forward
a number of years and someone thought to apply this concept to furniture in the form of beanbag chairs. A purple one is pictured here, looking much like the mutant concord grape from which it evolved. These things were excruciatingly popular back in the 60’s and 70’s, when young folks found it necessary to “crash at your pad man, just till I get my head on straight”. Sure dude, just don’t hurl on my beanbag – that is like real Corinthian leather.
The concept of the beanbag chair seems so logical – plop yourself down on one of these bad boys and let it mold into the shape of your backside. I expect these chairs have always been more popular with younger, limber people. Old folks like me are pretty good at plopping down, but require significant algorithmic assistance at the standing up part. I imagine myself today rocking back and forth until I reach my tipping point, rolling off the beanbag onto the floor and then creakily rising to my feet, beaming like a loon.
Their time has passed, but I’ll bet a lot of folks still have them safely tucked away, back in the attic behind the Silly Putty and the walkie-talkies.
whoisfenton 